Pity Party

Warning! This post is really weepy and bitchy. Come back next week for more playful banter.


I am struggling today. Not due to the academic rigor (though we do have another monster anatomy exam tomorrow) but to the strain of trying to balance SCHOOL, work, and life. So, here I sit – a drawer full of disarticulated dog skeleton on the desk beside me, and wonder, what the hell am I doing? Woke up this morning to a loud “I love you” from our sweet baby daughter. To my husband. They were deep in discussion on whether Oliver was ever going to grow up to be her big brother like Caillou. I’m used to being ignored by my son – he’s been a daddy’s (and now nanny’s) boy forever, but Ellie was supposed to be MINE for a little longer. No one noticed as I slipped out of bed and into the shower. Downstairs, the rest of the family happily prepared waffles (none for me, obviously. I was already on my way out the door). No crying for mama as I went for my bike (a good thing). Nobody waving goodbye at the window (a decidedly NOT good thing from my perspective). Hubby’s got it all worked out so that instead of shuttling me around, he gets the car on his days off and switches the bike out for me while I’m in class so I don’t have to ride home at 10pm. Convenient for everyone else, but it means that we’ve effectively eliminated the extra few minutes in the morning and night that I used to get to see the family. I am not a happy mommy.

On a happier note, today we decapitate Pinky! Then we saw her head in two so we can see the insides! Yay! That means an extra intense dissection with my favorite lab partner, who, I swear to God, is doing his best to ensure that I end up in a mental institution twitching uncontrollably by 2015. Look, dude. I realize that you think you are the most brilliant vet student ever to grace the hallowed halls of CSU, but let me remind you – I got into vet school, too. On my first try. With no previous science background. And I happen to know (since you kindly leave your graded exams face up on the desk beside me) that I’m actually doing better than you are. Except I can’t SAY any of this, because, Goddammit, I am the grownup here. Well, not here, on this blog, obviously, but in the real world. Alright. Time to rally. These bones aren’t going to name themselves. Peace, y’all.